


thunder & lightning got nothing on you

by dinnfameron



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Sweethearts, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Making Out, POV David Rose, Thunderstorms, but just a teensy bit because they're minors, the fluff really got away from me on this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinnfameron/pseuds/dinnfameron
Summary: "David isn't sure if it's the crack of thunder or the flash of lightning that wakes him. Either way, his heart is in his throat before he even opens his eyes. He lies still in his bed for a moment, panting in shallow, rapid breaths like a frightened animal, while the storm violently rages outside the windows that run along one wall of his bedroom."David's home alone during a thunderstorm and Patrick checks on him. That's it, that's the fic.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 47
Kudos: 189





	thunder & lightning got nothing on you

**Author's Note:**

> CW: Minors in a sexual situation. They’re sixteen, and there’s no actual sex, but be forewarned if that’s a no go for you.

David isn't sure if it's the crack of thunder or the flash of lightning that wakes him. Either way, his heart is in his throat before he even opens his eyes. He lies still in his bed for a moment, panting in shallow, rapid breaths like a frightened animal, while the storm violently rages outside the windows that run along one wall of his bedroom.

The ancient oak nearest the house creaks and groans in protest as its limbs are thrashed about by the wind, and the lightning strikes are coming so close together David is reminded of a strobe light. The next earsplitting boom of thunder has him springing from his bed and ripping his phone from its charger on his way to the hall bathroom.

He'd begged his parents for an en suite in their last round of renovations, but a new wig room for his mother had won out. A turn of events which David is now grateful for, as the interior hall bathroom would offer more protection from the raging storm outside. He flips on the light switch as he enters and is momentarily perplexed when nothing happens. _The power's out_ , he realizes, remembering vaguely that he'd fallen asleep with his bedside lamp on, trading texts and memes with Patrick late into the night.

David registers the time as he unlocks his phone and pulls up his messaging app. **3:37 AM.**

**David:** omfg i almost just got hit by lightning  
  
  
  


The storm must have Patrick up too, because his reply comes immediately.

**David:** omfg i almost just got hit by lightning  
  
  
  
**Patrick:** what??  
  
**David:** i mean essentially.  
  
**David:** our powers out.  
  
**Patrick:** so not even close then.  
  
**Patrick:** yeah, it’s out all over town.   
  
**Patrick:** you ok?  
  


When David was six years old, he’d fallen off his bike in the park and scraped his knee. He’d been sitting in the dirt, crying his eyes out while Adelina dug frantically in her bag for the mini first aid kit, when this kid suddenly came out of nowhere and sat beside him.

“It’s alright,” the kid had said, wrapping a sticky hand around David’s scrawny shoulder. “You don’t have to cry. It’s gonna be okay.”

He and Patrick had been best friends ever since.

Another impossibly loud crack of thunder startles David and he scrambles into the bathtub. He vaguely remembers hearing somewhere that was the safest place to be during inclement weather. It does at least muffle the sound of the storm raging outside.

**Patrick:** yeah, it’s out all over town.   
  
**Patrick:** you ok?  
  
**David:** idk not really? i just wish someone was home.   
  
  
  


David's parents and sister were out of town. Patrick had spent most of the weekend at David's, the two of them watching movies and eating way too much junk food and trading unhurried kisses anytime Adelina wasn’t in the room.

An obnoxiously long and close-sounding rumble makes the hair on the back of David's neck stand up.

  
**Patrick:** you ok?  
  
**David:** idk not really? i just wish someone was home.   
  


**David:** jesus fuck what is this storms actual problem?   
  


An incoming call comes through, an image of Patrick's smiling face flashing across the screen, and David swipes Accept before his ringtone even kicks on.

"Hi."

"Hey. You okay?"

"I'm..." David hesitates. It would be stupid, wouldn't it, to admit he's afraid of a thunderstorm? "I'm scared," he admits anyway. He's done way stupider shit in front of Patrick, and Patrick has never judged him for it.

"Yeah, it’s a bad one.” True to form, there’s no amusement in Patrick’s voice at David’s expense, only sympathy. “Want me to come over?”

"No!" David's voice reverberates off the Carrera tile. "You can't leave your house. It's unsafe."

"David. It's a thunderstorm, not the apocalypse. I'll be fine."

"You don't know that. You could get struck by lightning. You could get - get blown away by a strong gust of wind! You could get washed down a storm drain and attacked by a homicidal clown alien."

Patrick's laugh is soft and warm in David's ear. "Those scenarios seem increasingly unlikely," he says. “It looks like it’s dying down a little anyway.”

"But you shouldn't risk it.”

"Alright, I won't come over,” Patrick avows. “You'll be okay, though? You could call Adelina?"

"No, it's - it's okay." David takes a fortifying breath. "I'm sixteen years old. I can do this. I’ll just stay in the bathtub until it’s over."

“…You’re in the bathtub?”

“It’s the safest place in the house, Patrick.” David waves a hand around the room even though Patrick can’t see him.

"Oh. Good thinking.” David can hear the amusement in Patrick’s voice now but chooses to be the bigger person and not comment on it. “Look, you’re going to be fine,” Patrick adds sincerely. 

"Mmm.” David takes another steadying breath. “Thank you. For calling to check on me."

"Of course. Want me to stay on the line?"

"No, it's okay. You should try to get some rest."

"Well, text me. I'm not going back to sleep with this storm. I'll be right here if you need me."

"Okay."

"Okay.”

The feeling of assurance David had while talking to Patrick fades almost as soon as he disconnects the call. Another flash of lightning followed by a clap of thunder has him sitting on the floor of the tub, knees drawn to his chest, forearms clapped around the sides of his head.

It's not even that David is scared of storms, really. He likes them as an aesthetic, and on hot summer nights he likes to watch them rolling in and feel the static charge in the air. He and Patrick used to play in heavy rain storms as kids (A _s long as there’s no lightning_ , Mrs. Brewer always reminded them), something in the energy of the storm making them feel wild and brave. Patrick would lend David some shorts and a worn baseball tee, and they'd slip and slide around as they shouted and chased each other in the mud. They were soldiers, vikings, wolves, pro athletes, knights. David was never scared then.

It's just that he hadn't been expecting _this_ storm, the severity of it. And he was all alone in a huge house, and it struck him that if something went sideways, like the wind tearing the roof off or a tree coming through his bedroom window, he'd be alone when it happened. Alone and powerless, literally. David didn't like feeling that way, that’s all.

He must spend close to thirty minutes hunched in the tub, his anxiety spiraling into ever more imaginative worst-case scenarios, the storm showing no signs of moving on, when he thinks he hears something in the house. It's hard to be sure over the wind rattling the window panes, but David pulls his hands away from his head and straightens his spine, his ears adjusting minutely to better pick out the sound. Footsteps on the stairs. David holds his breath.

"Ouch, dammit." David can't recognize the hushed voice at first. Then the bathroom door is swinging open slowly and... "David?"

Patrick's concerned face peeks around the door.

"Oh my god." David practically launches himself at Patrick, wrapping him in a relieved hug. He’s soaking wet and barefoot, his hair plastered to his forehead. David pulls back quickly but keeps his fingers gripped on Patrick’s shoulders, unwilling to release him completely. "What are you _doing_ here?"

Patrick rests his hands on David’s waist but keeps himself and his wet clothes at a safe distance from David’s pajamas. "I know you said I shouldn’t come out, but I just felt like you shouldn't be alone." He shrugs. "So I came to check on you."

"Oh my god," David says again. "I thought you were a burglar."

"I said it was me as soon as I walked in the house," Patrick offers.

"Well, I didn't hear you!” David flails his hands defensively. “All I heard was some... person cursing on my stairs."

"Yeah, because _someone_ left their high tops on those stairs, and I tripped over them and almost busted my ass."

David gasps. "Are they okay?” At Patrick’s pointed stare, he amends, “I mean, you. Are you okay?”

Patrick chuckles. “I’m fine. Could maybe use a towel though.”

David grabs one from the cabinet and hands it over, leaning against the vanity and crossing his arms as he watches Patrick wipe himself down over his clothes.

“And where are your shoes?” he asks, his voice high. “Did you seriously sneak out at four a.m. to come check on me in a horrendous rainstorm _whilst_ barefoot?”

“No, I left them downstairs. They’re all wet and muddy.”

Oh. “How did you even get in?” 

"David, the spare key has been under the same rock at the side door since I've known you," Patrick says incredulously. He dumps the towel in the laundry hamper and moves to stand in front of David, smoothing his hands down David’s arms. 

"Oh, okay, yes. Sorry. I'm like–" David waves his hands in front of his chest, indicating his general storm-related freaked-outedness. Another crack of thunder makes him jump, but Patrick is rubbing his arms reassuringly, so this time he doesn’t even mind.

“It’s alright,” Patrick assures him. “It really is starting to lose some steam out there. We could probably even leave the bathroom.”

“Mhmm, again, this is the safest place to be in a storm,” David insists, a didactic finger in the air.

“Pretty sure that’s just for tornadoes? Also, you’re on the second floor, so I’m not sure how effective this plan is.” Patrick pinches his waist. 

“Okay, shut up.” David kisses him.

Turns out the only thing better than roasting the hell out of your best friend of nearly a decade is getting to kiss them while you do it, a fact that David and Patrick had discovered for themselves only five months prior.

They’d been sitting in the rec room at David’s house. Some 90s action monstrosity of Patrick’s choosing was playing on the oversized TV, and David was on one of his tirades about how incorrect it all was. He was going hard about the unrealistic plot, the hideous hair and wardrobe on the main guy, and Patrick’s horrible taste in film in general, when Patrick had suddenly leaned across the space between them on the couch and kissed him full on the mouth. When Patrick leaned back his eyes were huge, like he didn’t mean to do it, and for a second David thought everything was ruined. But then Patrick smiled, and David smiled, and that was that.

“Wanna go downstairs?” present day Patrick says after some more kissing. “Raid the fridge before the food spoils? Or we could go hang out in your room. I’d love to borrow some dry clothes, though I recognize you’ll require a blood oath that I won’t damage them or something.”

As appealing as eating potentially spoiled food is, the fact that David now finds himself alone and unchaperoned with his boyfriend isn’t lost on him. He’d be remiss if he let this opportunity go to waste.

“Let’s go to my room,” he says, aiming for casual but probably not hitting it. “I’m sure we can come up with some way for you to repay me.”

Patrick takes his hand and leads him back down the hall. The storm is still raging. David can see it outside his bedroom windows, but Patrick was right: it does seem to be starting to blow itself out. David grabs some dry joggers and the closest thing he has to a basic tee and tosses them on the bed, busying himself on his phone while Patrick changes into them.

“Better?” David asks while Patrick hangs his wet clothes over the back of the chair in the corner.

“Much.” Patrick comes to stand in front of him again. “You’re a generous person, David Rose.”

“That I am.” David climbs onto the bed as elegantly as he can and reaches out a hand. “Lie down with me?”

Patrick takes his hand and follows him, letting David arrange him on the bed the way he wants. With Patrick on his back and David lying half on top of him, half on the mattress, he kisses Patrick gently. Then again. Then one more time.

“David.”

“What?”

“This isn’t why I – we don’t have to do anything. We can just-”

“I know. Maybe I want you to distract me, though,” he mumbles against Patrick’s mouth. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Mhmm. I’m still, like, really scared,” David says innocently, batting his lashes for good measure even though he isn’t sure Patrick can see it in the darkened room. Patrick laughs.

“Oh, well, in that case. I’d be happy to help. Distract you.” Patrick wraps his hands around David’s back, running his palms along David’s shoulders.

The lightning flashes again, lighting up Patrick’s smile, and David dips his head down for another kiss. Which turns into another, and another. David only pulls himself away from Patrick’s mouth to kiss along his jaw, down his neck. He props himself on one elbow and runs his opposite hand along Patrick’s arm, his shoulder, his chest.

He shifts his hips to rub himself along Patrick’s thigh but pulls back immediately, panting apologies into Patrick’s mouth. For all the making out and above-the-clothes groping they’ve managed to get in over the last few months, the physical stuff is still largely uncharted territory for them. David doesn’t want to accidentally take it too far.

But Patrick grabs David’s hips and pulls him back in against his leg. “No, don’t – you’re perfect,” he says.

David bites his lip to avoid making an embarrassing noise, then dips down to bite Patrick’s lip instead. He grinds tentatively against Patrick, still wary of crossing some invisible line. Patrick moves his hands to David's ass, his grip so tight David can feel each fingertip through the thin material of his sleep pants.

“Can I touch you?” David whispers the question against Patrick’s neck. Patrick nods, a slight groan escaping him, and that’s all the encouragement David needs. Fuck an invisible line; he’s making this happen for them.

Patrick kisses him with just a hint of desperation, but David has to break the kiss to see what he’s doing when he reaches inside Patrick’s pants. He only has time to register heat and hardness against his palm before the unmistakable sound of the back door slamming shut comes up the stairs.

David and Patrick both freeze at the sound, trading a look of sheer panic until Adelina’s familiar voice rings out from the lower level.

“Mr. David! Are you alright?”

“Ffffuuuck,” David drawls out, dropping his forehead to Patrick’s shoulder and extricating his hand gracefully from Patrick’s pants. Patrick kisses the side of his head and huffs a laugh.

“She’s gonna come up here, David,” he whispers after a moment of silence.

“Nnngh,” David says.

“I know, but you gotta get off me at some point. Like soon.”

David lets out a possibly slightly dramatic sigh against Patrick’s neck before dropping a kiss there and rolling away and off the bed.

The lights come back on just as Patrick slips into the corner near David’s closet where he won’t be seen from the doorway. Seconds later, Adelina knocks on the door. “Mr. David?”

“Hi, Adelina. You’re early.” David leans his head and shoulders out into the hallway, keeping the lower half of his body firmly behind the door, trying to look as sleepy and innocent as he possibly can.

“I wanted to check on you. It’s a bad storm.”

“It’s - yeah. I’m okay, though.”

Adelina eyes him suspiciously. “You’ve been sleeping?”

“Yep, yeah. Mhmm, just sleeping away.” A loud crack of thunder chooses that moment to strike. “I mean, I might’ve woken up briefly.” David smooths an eyebrow with his finger.

“Okay, Mr. David. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m going to start breakfast.”

“Thanks, Adelina. I’d love some pancakes, actually.”

“Alright.” She turns to go and is nearly to the stairs before calling over her shoulder: “I’ll make some for Mr. Patrick, too, but then he should go home.”

David freezes briefly but recovers. “Yeah. Yes. He will. Thanks, Adelina.”

“I’ll wipe his shoes off for him too. They’re a mess.”

“I will tell him, thank you so much.”

David closes the door and turns around slowly, his lips bitten down to hide his smile. Patrick looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“Your _shoes,_ ” David accuses, narrowing his eyes.

“I forgot I left them down there,” Patrick confesses.

“Such a criminal mastermind,” David says, softer, as Patrick finds his way into his arms again.

“Think she’ll tell your parents I was here?”

“Who cares? They love you. If I were you, I’d be much more worried about whether she’ll tell _your_ parents.”

Patrick smirks at him. “Worth it.”

“Hmm, is it? You’d be okay with Marcy and Clint knowing their precious baby boy was in here about to ravish his boyfriend - “

“Is that what was about to happen? I was about to ravish _you_? Because I seem to remember your hand down my-”

David presses a kiss to Patrick's lips to shut him up. “I’m sure you were working up to it,” he says.

Patrick only hums in response.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time before Adelina was onto us,” David continues. So far, they hadn’t mentioned the alteration to their relationship status to either of their families, though they weren’t exactly trying to hide it either.

“David, I’ve been in love with you since we were, like, ten. If she wasn’t onto at least me by now, I’d be concerned,” Patrick says, and David’s mouth drops open on a gasp. Patrick seems not to notice, pressing a kiss to David's cheek and going over to the chair in the corner to check his clothes. “These are still wet,” he says.

David doesn’t say anything. Can’t say anything. His brain is whirring with the bombshell Patrick just dropped so casually that David isn't sure he heard correctly.

Patrick turns back to him, and he must read the confusion on David’s face as concern, because he says, “It’s fine. I’ll go home after breakfast, and I can just come back for them later.”

“You - you’re in love with me?” David says. Patrick’s expression is pure surprise before quickly shifting to deep concentration. David can see him working his way back through the last few moments, trying to track David’s train of thought. Fortunately, he has years of experience making sense of David’s non sequiturs.

“Oh - I didn’t mean to - Well, yeah.” Patrick laughs, looking sheepish. “I guess I thought it was, uh, common knowledge at this point. Is...is that okay?”

“Mhm, yeah.” David clears his throat. “Yes. It’s okay, it’s more than - I - me too, you know?”

It isn’t enough, David thinks. _Me too._ What a horrible, unromantic way to say that you love someone for the first time. But Patrick’s smiling at him in that way he’s got where his lips are only 10% smiling but his eyes are 2000% smiling. It’s Patrick’s best smile, in David’s opinion, so he thinks he didn’t screw up too bad.

“Oh,” Patrick says. “Okay.”

They knock each other’s shoulders and trip over each other the whole way downstairs and into the kitchen where Adelina is pulling the first pancakes off the griddle. Patrick insists that David should have the first batch, but they end up sharing them, sitting side-by-side at the island. After their third or fourth plateful, Patrick pulls on his damp shoes and kisses David goodbye before slipping out the back door.

David blushes a little at Adelina’s knowing smile and makes his way back up to his room. It’s barely six a.m., and he’s exhausted. The storm has finally broken, making way for what’s shaping up to be a gorgeous morning. David slips back under the covers. Just as his eyes are drifting shut, his phone dings on the nightstand.

**Patrick:** home. going back to bed?  
  
**David:** yes if someone would leave me alone for two seconds  
  
**David:** thanks for coming really. see you later?  
  
**Patrick:** yeah i’ll text you. love you.  
  
**Patrick:** can we say that or no?   
  
**Patrick:** you don’t have to.  
  
**David:** no we absolutely are saying it  
  
**David:** love you too  
  
**Patrick:** Ok good.  
  
**Patrick:** Good morning, David.  
  
**David:** morning Patrick ❤️  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I was reading [(a long time ago) we used to be friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082225) and got swept up in the idea of David & Patrick as childhood sweethearts, and while I was lost somewhere in that headspace a really bad thunderstorm came through my town, hence this. (Doesn't take place in the same verse as that work though.) 
> 
> These two boys got embarrassingly soft & fluffy by the end, and for that I apologize. 
> 
> Also this is my first time playing around with a text skin! It could look better, but I've hit the amount of time I'm willing to spend on a 3k word one shot. 
> 
> I'm dinnfameron on tumblr as well come talk to me anytime!!


End file.
